Finding the Way Back
by tridget
Summary: John finds his way out of a trap with a little help.


**Title: ****Finding the Way Back**  
**Author: ****tridget**  
**Genre: **angst, h/c, gen  
**Rating: **PG for mild language  
**Warnings: **See Ratings  
**Word Count: **1831  
**Summary: **John finds his way out of a trap with a little help.  
**Prompt: **Traps/Trapped - Written for Flashfic Challenge One at **LJ's sheppard_hc**.  
**Author's Notes: **With thanks to **kriadydragon** my beta reader who...fixed...a few...things. All remaining mistakes are my own.

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**Finding the Way Back**

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It started with a question—a question that John would not answer, could not answer.

John glanced at his watch. Five minutes. It had only been five minutes. It felt more like an hour. Maybe his watch was broken. He tapped the face of his watch with his index finger as though that might jar it into recalculating the passage of time. Five minutes. It still said five minutes. It was going to be almost an hour before rescue would arrive. He didn't know if he could hang on for that long.

The room was already uncomfortably warm. Beads of perspiration dotted John's brow. He swiped his hand across his forehead—not that it was going to do much good. New droplets began to form immediately. Sweat trickled down his back and chest. His t-shirt clung uncomfortably to his body. John tugged at the damp fabric a few times, pulling it free from his overheated skin. The relief was only momentary.

His muscles ached. John stretched, trying to relieve the tight knots of pain. He should have been honest. They'd hurt for several days. But he'd felt like he was losing his mind sitting around with nothing to do but "recover." So, he'd lied. He'd covered up every symptom just to get back on duty. He wasn't fit for command. Not yet, anyway. He knew that now. At least the only person harmed on this little outing was himself. John felt his gut clench painfully. He wasn't sure if it was due to the residual effects of that last mission or the realization that he could have put his entire team at risk with his selfish deception. Maybe it was a bit of both. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and hunched forward, rocking slightly as he tried to alleviate the ache.

John checked his watch again. Ten minutes. He groaned. The air was too thin. He really wasn't going to last until rescue came. He felt his heart race and his breath quicken with anxiety.

He sat back, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, willing himself to relax. As he exhaled, he tried to direct some of the air upward to cool his face. The act provided temporary relief. He repeated it again and again. He began to feel lightheaded and gray spots appeared before his eyes. Struggling to return his breathing to a normal rate, John bent forward again and dropped his head between his knees until the wave of dizziness passed and he was certain he was no longer in danger of passing out.

Lifting his head and looking around the room, John realized the space was not unpleasant. Had circumstances been different, it might have been a room that he actually liked. If it weren't for the lack of an exit, the room would have been acceptably spacious. Now, it just felt incredibly small and airless. If it weren't so hot and his head wasn't pounding so badly, he would have liked the warm shafts of sunlight crisscrossing the floor. Now, they were like spears of flame singeing him, burning his retinas. John pressed the heels of his hand against his eyes until the pain abated somewhat.

He returned his attention to the room. The décor was minimal but pleasant. There were several shelves of books. A few knick knacks dotted the room. A couple of leafy plants sat in one corner. Plants. Didn't plants give off oxygen? How many plants would it take to provide him with enough air to stay alive?

John rose stiffly and shuffled slowly toward the collection of plants. The short walk sapped his remaining energy. He slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. The walls were still cool in this spot. John pressed himself closer to the wall relishing the small relief.

John looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes had elapsed. Fifteen minutes he'd been imprisoned. Fifteen minutes since his life had started to drain away. He started to shake.

_Let me go... let me go... please... let me go_, John pleaded silently.

John heard the door to the room slide open. Fresh, cool air flowed in. An escape route.

_Was that all it took? Was it as simple as that?_ John felt hysteria rise within him as he realized the absurdity of overlooking such a simple solution. He laughed as he pushed away from the wall. He laughed as he stood up. He would have laughed as he bolted from the room, but the pain struck with a vengeance—worse than it had at anytime in the last few days—much, much worse. Screaming, John dropped to the floor again. Every cell in his body was on fire. His bones were snapping, cracking, splintering, one by one. His muscles were tearing, ripping apart. And he was helpless to do anything about it.

Time no longer mattered. An eternity of pain could fit into a few short seconds.

"Colonel! Colonel Sheppard! Colonel, look at me. Listen to my voice!"

A hand grabbed his...and the pain stopped. John lay on the floor gasping and shaking violently. Bile surged upward, flooding his throat, choking him, spilling out of his mouth as he coughed and gagged. A pair of gentle hands rolled him on his side and held him steady while he vomited. As humiliating as it was, he was grateful for the hands and the voice soothing him, anchoring him. Otherwise, he was going to shatter into a million pieces.

When it was over, John rolled onto his back again. "Oh, God!" He dragged a hand weakly across his mouth. "I'm sorry...crap...I'm sorry...I..." He coughed again.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"Trapped..." John rasped staring at the ceiling. "Trapped...and...and...terrified."

"You felt trapped and terrified?"

"Yeah." John's hoarse reply took a long time coming.

"Do you mean you felt that way on the planet or here now in my office?"

"Both...Both...Crazy, huh?"

"No, not at all," Dr. Heightmeyer shook her head. "Come with me. I think I know a spot that might be more comfortable for you." She helped John up off the floor and led him out of her office to a nearby balcony.

John stood at the railing gulping in the cool ocean air while Kate fetched a cup of water.

John swirled the water around in his mouth then spat over the railing. He took a few tentative sips to ease the burning in his throat and hoped they would stay down. His legs, already shaky to begin with, started to tremble again. John took a few steps over to the wall and sat down, drawing his knees up to his chest. He put the cup down and let his arms dangle across his knees.

Kate sat down a few feet away.

John sighed, frowning. "You asked a question...You asked me how I felt and I...I don't know. I mean, I knew how I felt...on the planet...and then the planet and your office seemed to get...mixed up. I knew I was in your office but..." He shrugged in confusion. "Then I kind of lost it."

"Do you remember when we spoke about flashbacks yesterday?" Kate prompted gently.

"Yeah...But I didn't know it would...I didn't think it would happen to me...not like that...not..." He shrugged again and dropped his head. "I think maybe it's been happening all week," he mumbled.

Kate sat silently as John gathered his thoughts.

"I didn't think anything could hurt that much." John heard his own voice as though it came from far away. He sucked in a sharp breath as his muscles started to tremble.

"Colonel?"

John suddenly stiffened. His head snapped back slamming against the wall behind him. He yelped in pain.

"Colonel!" Kate scrambled closer to John grabbing his hand again. "Colonel, you're safe, you're on Atlantis now..."

John took a few calming breaths. "It's okay...It's over...I...uh... t's like that. It's been happening like that. I don't know if it's the residual effects of the wraith feeding on me or...or...just in my mind...a flashback.

"What did Dr. Beckett say about the possibility of this being residual effects?" Kate inquired.

John dropped his head again. "I lied."

"You lied? About what?"

"About this," John gestured vaguely. "I didn't tell him about this. I lied. I said I was fine...I sort of thought I was...maybe. I just wanted to get back out there." Now that he had started his confession, it was hard to stop. "I can't sleep—not without nightmares. I'm not hungry and what I do eat doesn't stay down. I can't concentrate enough to do anything. I can't read. I can't watch movies. I can't play video games—nothing. And I haven't tried it but..." His voice broke. "I sure as hell couldn't fly a jumper right now." John groaned miserably. "I'm not going to be cleared for duty for a very long time am I?"

"You could be cleared sooner than you think. Certainly you'll be cleared sooner now that you're able to understand and discuss what's happening to you. You will get through this and you will fly again. You've made a very good start today."

John nodded slowly. "I think I'd better have another discussion with Carson."

Kate smiled. "I think that's a good idea."

John was surprised to find the weight on his shoulders was no longer as heavy as it had been. "I feel better now."

"Colonel..." Kate began warningly.

John interrupted. "I didn't say I was cured. I'm just...better than I was."

"Ah. Sorry. I misunderstood."

"It's understandable." John gave a small smile.

Not far away, another voice could be heard.

"Colonel Sheppard? Sheppard? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I said I'd be back in one hour and it's exactly one hour. Where the hell are you?"

Rodney. His rescuer.

"Over here," John called, his voice still rough.

Rodney stopped abruptly as he entered the balcony. He looked John up and down. "Well, you look like crap." He turned to Kate. "What did you do to him? He looked much better when I dropped him off. People are supposed to look better after they see you."

John held up his hand signaling Rodney to stop. "Rodney, I am better. Not great yet. Not even well, really, but I'm better than I was."

Rodney's eyes widened. "Did I hear you say you're not well? You have to be in really bad shape to say that. Carson said I was to walk you back to your room, but we are so not going there. We're going straight to the infirmary. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars."

"Rodney, I can find my own way to the infirmary," John began. He paused. "But I wouldn't, you know, mind some company while I'm finding my way back."

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**The End **


End file.
